


Good Grief (what's gonna be left of the world if you're not in it?)

by lilaspitt



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, No Incest, no beta we die like ben, not as depressing as i thought it was gonna be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23470894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilaspitt/pseuds/lilaspitt
Summary: griefnounintense sorrow, especially caused by someone's death.But Klaus wasn't grieving. Grief was for those who'd never see their loved ones again. Klaus would see Dave again, he knew he would.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	Good Grief (what's gonna be left of the world if you're not in it?)

Many people took Klaus’s number of relationships to mean he didn’t care about love, or where he found it, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Klaus had so much love to give, too much in his opinion. He was overflowing with it. 

He just had never found the right person to direct it at. There was his family, sure, and he loved them, but they were never the type to show their love. Hugs were a rare occasion, and the words I love you were even rarer.

Meeting Dave, and loving Dave, it had all become so clear why he had this much love to give. He loved Dave in all the ways he knew how, and then some.

He loved how when Dave laughed; he laughed loud and bright, lighting up Klaus’s world like the sun. He loved to make Dave smile, because, oh, that damn smile and how it melted him down to the core. He loved how when Dave spoke about something he was passionate about, he’d throw his hands around. He loved that if the sun shone just right, Dave’s hair gleamed gold-

Dave was his person and, though Klaus never believed in it, his soulmate. Even if he had to love in secret, or in the dead of night, behind buildings, it didn’t matter. All that had mattered in those few moments they had alone had been each other. 

Better still, Dave loved him back. It was in the way his face lit up when he saw Klaus, the soft kisses in the back of the club, the first time he had said I love you, half asleep with a smile on his face.

Of course, he should have known things were too perfect, and that he should have just ran off with Dave when he got the chance. He’d pushed his luck too far, and now Dave’s blood was on his hands.

Now Dave was nothing more than the bittersweet memories turning sour with loss, the blood that had once stained his hands, and the cold biting metal of his tags against Klaus’s chest.

The love Klaus held for Dave still burned as bright as ever, but it wasn’t the same welcome warmth Klaus had revered. It had twisted itself alongside Dave’s death, and now, the thought of Dave made him choke, like a thick smoke had made itself a home in his lungs.

His grief had torn him apart and reassembled the most jagged parts of him, forcing them together, and had created a mess. He was a volcano waiting to erupt, a hurricane on its way to land, a tsunami already drawn back and raring to go. A natural disaster.

Some days he wanted to suppress everything he felt. The anger. The loss. The pain. Some days he had to convince himself not to. For Dave’s sake.

Dave was in everything he did now. Every decision he made led back to Dave. He needed Dave to be proud of him, like he had been back in Vietnam. He needed to see Dave again. He needed to say goodbye, or hello.

Ben had told him he would see Dave again, but with every day that passed, Klaus lost just a little more hope. He’d never give up completely, but he couldn’t deny it was wearing him down, and he knew the others were picking up on it too.

Diego had tried to get him to a boxing ring, saying something about grief and anger, and how if Klaus wasn’t gonna talk about it to them then he needed to at least express it somehow.

Five had been eyeing Klaus like he was some particularly interesting equation he couldn’t figure out, then, in the next second, it would be something close to understanding, then an equation again. It was driving him insane, not knowing which Five seemed to stick with, and not knowing which he wanted to deal with.

Allison, at least, with her caring glances and knowing looks had taken a more backseat approach, in letting him go to her, and making it obvious she was there for him in the little things she did. He appreciated it, he did, but he wasn’t sure that they’d quite fixed that relationship enough for him to really explain everything.

Klaus thought they didn’t really understand, however much they tried. His siblings were used to losing people they loved. That was it for them. They lost someone, and they were gone for good. 

Klaus had never lost anybody like that. When Ben had died, he was still there. Grief just wasn’t a thing he’d ever had to process before.

Not even for their father. Klaus had felt sorry for the man, and maybe felt something close to sadness, but it wasn’t grief. It wasn’t the soul-wrenching feeling he felt now, even if that wasn’t the word he’d used to describe it.

Grief meant dead and gone, it meant no coming back, but he knew Dave could come back, so he couldn’t grieve. There was no room for it. Dave had to come back… it was just taking some time.

He wanted to talk to his siblings about it. Hell, he wanted to scream about it for the world to hear. He wanted to punch and kick at things and yell how none of this was fair.

He didn’t. Doing any of that would mean giving up on ever summoning Dave. He wasn’t grieving because he would see Dave again. This was just the waiting period, and maybe it was close to grief, but he’d never admit it.

Which brought him today. A few months had passed since the not-apocalypse. Still… nothing. He laid back on his carpet, limbs spread out like a star, and just stared up at the ceiling.

He wanted to push himself up with the same boundless energy he’d seemed to have before all of this, and run through the academy, and be the jokester. He wanted Dave. He wanted to pretend none of it ever happened. He needed to know it did.

He continued to stare, hoping for something to change. Maybe for Dave to appear himself, smiling brightly at Klaus like he had all those other times, and with a quick joke about making him wait-

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ben move to set on top his desk. He had a different book clutched in his hand, but Klaus wasn’t all that bothered to read the title. Ben would just tell him about it later if it was good.

Ben flicked a page, then said, almost absently, “You need to get a haircut.”

Klaus hummed. The last time he’d had a haircut was pre-the-week-that-fucked-everything-up, which for anyone else was a long time, but taking into account his time travel, it was much longer. It was just above his shoulders now, and an unbrushed mess. He should probably curl it. He missed his curly hair.

“Or dye it,” Ben said idly, again, without looking up, “Remember when you wanted to dye it ginger, and you tried to convince Allison to go purple too.”

Klaus wanted to smile at one of the few good memories he’d had. He should smile, that’s what people did when they thought back on fond memories. He tried to force one instead, but it didn’t sit right on his face anymore.

He shifted slightly instead and murmured, “Wanted you to go blond.”

Ben finally looked up, “It was white, Klaus. You brought the dye and everything, I remember.”

He’d snuck out, armed with money that he’d taken from their dear old daddy, and bought several hair dyes that never could have worked on most of them without some lightening kit. He’d never gotten the chance to use them, having had to hide them quickly that night when Luther had barged in for some reason Klaus had forgotten about now, and then Five had gone missing, and missions, and-

He wondered if they were still there, hidden in his room still. He couldn’t find the energy to move and find out. He assumed so. The rest of his room had been untouched for years since he’d left, and no one would think about moving dye from his room.

Maybe he should, though. Who knows what dye could do after being left under his bed for twenty years? Still, he didn’t move even as his door was thrown open and Diego stood, looking around until his eyes landed on Klaus on the floor.

He raised an eyebrow and gave Klaus that look that meant he was thinking about why he was cursed with such a family. He gave Klaus that look often. He didn’t think laying on his floor was even that weird, all things considered.

Finally, Diego stepped forward, grabbed Klaus’s wrist, giving it a light tug, and said, “Up.”

He made himself as limp as possible in defiance. He wanted to lay here and feel until he couldn’t anymore. Or he wanted to find Dave. Or just sleep. Yeah, sleep sounded good.

“I swear- get up.” He stared Diego dead in the eyes and then closed them. “Fine.” Diego dropped his arm, Klaus settled back into the carpet, until something grabbed his ankles and started pulling him. “If this is how you wanna do it.”

“Let me go!” He tried kicking out at Diego’s hands, or wriggling out of his grip. That did nothing. He was slowly, but surely, being pulled out of his room, regardless.

“No. You’re coming down.”

“Fuck off, Diego. Let me-ow!” He was sure Diego had deliberately banged him against the wall. Smug bastard. “Fucking carry me at least.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He hissed as he was pulled, slowly, down the stairs. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t pleasant either. “You can either walk or get pulled.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up, “I’ll walk, I’ll walk! Dunno how with all these bruises.” As soon as Diego let go of his ankles, he threw himself up with a new energy, and turned back to run up the stairs.

A hand grabbed his jacket and pulled him back. He was half convinced Diego would throw him to the floor to drag him again, but he sighed, and threw Klaus over his shoulder like he weighed nothing.

He tried to kick out, but Diego held steadfast. He walked past the main living area, to the… kitchen? 

When they arrived, Diego put him down, grabbed a plate of waffles off the counter behind him, and all but slammed down in front of Klaus, declaring, “Eat.”

“Wha-”

“Eat,” Diego repeated, in the same no-nonsense tone, “then you are gonna punch some shit, then I’ll leave you alone. Whatever this,” he motioned to Klaus, “is, it’s not coping, and we tried letting you do this your way, but if your way is to waste away until you die, then it’s not gonna happen. So we try things my way.”

Klaus swallowed a bite of the waffle. It felt like it was stuck in his throat, and the flavour was just off in an indescribable way. It was probably him more than it was anyone’s cooking, though. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then you got five more siblings to work through.” Diego said. “And a whole lot of time.”

He swallowed another bite, trying to ignore how it made his stomach curl. He loved waffles, even the shitty ones from their childhood they’d tried to throw together without Mom’s help, but this was somehow the worst one he’d ever tried.

Diego watched him, but Klaus couldn’t read his face. It was unusual. Diego, as much as he denied it, wore his heart on his sleeve. He didn’t like not knowing where they stood.

He finally, after what seemed like an age, finished one waffle. There were two more left, but there was no way he’d finish either without being sick. He looked up at Diego, hoping he looked pleading enough.

Diego sighed and pushed the plate away. “Come on.” He didn’t give Klaus a chance to move before he was already leaving the kitchen, heading to their old training area.

Diego looked over his shoulder to check he was following, before turning down another corridor. Klaus followed, he knew if he turned back Diego would find him again, and probably would end up carrying him all the way there, which did neither of them good.

When he got there, Diego was waiting with a pair of boxing gloves in hand already. He threw them at Klaus. “You know what to do. Hit it.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Too bad.” Diego said. “You need to do some shit to deal with your grief, in a healthy way.”

Klaus tried to push back the wave of anger that overtook him, but in seconds, he was in Diego’s face, “It isn’t grief. He’s not gone. Asshole.”

“Yeah, well,” he was unphased, as if Klaus did this all the time, “he’s not here either, is he? It’s been months, Klaus, where is he?”

Klaus didn’t even register swinging his fist, but Diego jumped out the way and he hit the bag. He wanted to say it felt like his anger was gone, that he was better now, but one hit solved nothing. He was just angrier.

At the world. At himself. At God. At their dad. Why did he get to live when Dave was the better of them? Why, even in his death, had they been split apart? Why? Just- why?

He threw another punch at the bag. And another. Another. More. He lost count. His anger built up. Surely this wasn’t healthy. Surely he’d been better laying on his floor, just waiting.

Energy thrummed through him. All he could focus on was the bag in front of him. Before he knew it, someone had grabbed his shoulders, turning him away from the bag. Diego. His eyebrows were pinched.

“Stop.” Diego said. “Shit, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry, K.”

The lack of energy came back again and he all but fell against Diego, now clinging to him. Diego wrapped his arms around Klaus. Someone was crying, no- sobbing, he realised, it took another second for it to register the person crying was him.

“H-he isn’t,” Klaus mumbled into Diego’s shoulder, “he isn’t gone.”

Diego wrapped his arms tighter around Klaus, “I know, I know.” There was silence, then, “I do.”

“How?” He whispered.

Diego slowly pulled away, looking at Klaus, “Eudora.” Shit. The lady cop. He’d been so caught up in his own… feelings, he’d forgotten about Diego’s own lost love. “Yeah, it’s shit, and I can’t tell you it gets easier either.”

“I could- I could try conjuring her for you,” Klaus said.

He watched a multitude of emotions flick across Diego’s face until he landed on something bittersweet. His eyes looked suspiciously wet, “I think you should focus on bringing back your Dave first. I- I had that closure, Klaus, I went to her funeral. I can’t say I’m not over it, I’ll never be- but I’m good, and I think that’s what she’d want for me.”

Klaus didn’t know Eudora, but she’d come looking for him, alone, based on Diego’s worry about his brother, admittedly the wrong one, but he’d been so glad someone had found him he hadn’t cared. She had to have Diego’s best interests in heart when she put her own life at risk for the chance to find his brother.

Diego shouldn’t have lost his own love based on Klaus’s actions. If he hadn’t been kidnapped- if he had stayed- was he responsible for killing both their loves?

“Klaus?” Diego was still staring at him with the same concern. “You good?”

He started to say yes, but what came out instead was, “It’s my fault-” Diego shook his head, but Klaus had to continue now, “Eudora, I was there, I could have done something. I could have warned her properly or-”

“Don’t,” Diego said, “Don’t do that. What ifs and if only's. They had tortured you for a full day, her priority was to get you out of there first and she had the gun, Klaus, there was nothing you could have done.”

A bitter laugh escaped him, “And Dave? Was there nothing I could have done there either? I could have told him the truth, and he could have come here-”

“Or he could have stayed in his own time.” Diego said. “He might have said no, or yes, and maybe if he said yes, he might have been hit by a car, or choked on a piece of bread, or fallen into a pool.”

“That’s not the same.”

Diego gave him that look again, and squeezed Klaus’s shoulder, “But it is. People die all the time, it’s sad, and it hurts, but it’s true. There’s no guaranteeing tomorrow for anyone, and there wouldn’t have been for Dave either.”

“Yeah,” Klaus said after a brief pause. He looked away, choosing to focus on a spot of dirt on the wall over Diego’s shoulder. “You’re probably right.”

Diego huffed, but a flicker of a smile crossed his face, “Probably? I’m always right, and you know it.”

“When we were ten, you said that bumper cars were just controlled car crashes.”

“And was I wrong?” Klaus opened his mouth, but Diego was already talking, “No. So maybe, have a little faith in me for once is all I’m saying.”

He turned to walk away, probably, “Diego?” He turned back, “July 19th, 2000.”

“We swore we’d never talk about that again.” Diego said, pointing at Klaus, “And that was as much your fault as it was mine.”

Klaus shook his head, “Not how I remember it, and you admit you can be wrong?”

“You know what? I think I preferred you more when you were quiet.” 

Diego slapped his shoulder as he passed, but the grin warmed the action all the more. He nudged Diego back and ducked under the hand that went to ruffle his hair. 

Things weren’t perfect. His loss of Dave hadn’t suddenly been fixed, but- but things could be okay, if just for now. There was no promising tomorrow for anyone, after all.

But today, he thought, as he ran away from Diego, cackling madly all the while, today could be a good day. As a treat.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :)  
> if you like talk to me on tumblr: gracehargreeves


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